


Ron Weasley & the Penis Mightier

by KariAnn1222



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Humor, One Shot, Post - Deathly Hallows, Romance, Sex, Smut, crackfic, sexfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KariAnn1222/pseuds/KariAnn1222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>COMPLETE! What's one thing that Ron & Hermione both love?  Ron's penis, of course!  Only this time, his appendage comes with a little...twist. ;)  </p><p>Originally written for and posted at Romione Smut on tumblr.</p><p>Thanks to Jes for inspiration for the summary!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ron Weasley & the Penis Mightier

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet, originally written for Romione Smut (romionesmut.tumblr.com), is all about (if you couldn't guess from the title) Ron's penis and was inspired by several silly Twitter conversations, including one about the perks of being an Australian man, & therefore dedicated to all of you who have helped keep me entertained online. You guys are awesome! (You know who you are.)
> 
> FYI, this is meant as lighthearted fun & not meant to be taken seriously. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise and am making no money from writing this. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Warnings: It's "explicit" rating & the fact that it was originally written for Romione Smut should be warning enough. If you're underage, do I really need to say it?

It all started as an experiment. A right stupid experiment that he should've had the common sense to say "no" to from the get-go.

When Ron Weasley, rather unfortunately, as it turned out, agreed to test George's latest product in WWW's line of adult products on himself, he was assured repeatedly that the potion in question would simply…increase his stamina, give his lady "pleasures untold," and delay his—

"Ron, are you coming?" His wife's voice, a typical huff of impatience, sounded from the other side of the door to the guest toilet of George and Angelina's little countryside cottage.

No, he definitely wasn't "coming." Or cumming, to be more precise. Although he rather wished he was. "Just a sec, love!" he called out in as normal a tone as he could muster, cringing at the rather high-pitched sound of his voice.

Fuck, he was in an arseload of trouble. When Hermione found out he'd done something so idiotic and mental as to voluntarily test one of George's in-the-works inventions on himself, she was sure to give him a verbal lashing that'd put his mother to shame.

Not to mention the no-sex thing. Hermione _always_ held out on the sex when she was hacked off at him. Evidently, getting him all riled up physically and then not offering up the goods was her favorite way of torturing him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

He couldn't tear his eyes away the sight in the full-length mirror on the back of the door: It _looked_ like his cock, but it was…bigger. _Much_ bigger, actually. As in, at least three inches longer, and it was _thick_. Not that Ron Weasley wasn't naturally gifted in the size department, but this— _this_ was just plain ridiculous. The thing was a sodding monster, and, to top it off…

It was vibrating. Yep. He had an erection the size of a small giant's, and it was actually bloody _vibrating_.

And he was so bleedin' horny that if he didn't cum soon he might just explode. Literally. Which would be more than a bit embarrassing, seeing as how he hadn't creamed his pants since he was fifteen and little more than a hard-on with legs and a brain that's sole purpose seemed to have been to prevent him from humping Hermione's leg at D.A. meetings.

"Ron! Rose is getting fussy, and we need to _go_!"

"Bloody hell, woman, I'm busy! Just…give me five minutes, okay?"

 _Why_ in the name of Merlin's saggy, ancient bollocks hadn't he just waited 'til they'd gotten home and gotten the baby to sleep before trying the potion? Or, better yet, why hadn't he simply not let his arsehole brother talk him into trying it in the first place? It was like he was five years old again, being talked into climbing on the roof by George or Fred to look for the "candy fairy" or some other made-up entity invented for the sole purpose of torturing his gullible self…

Although, as Ron stood over the toilet and grasped his throbbing, vibrating monstrosity of a dick, knowing what he needed to do to both relieve himself and to counteract the potion, he couldn't help but wonder how she'd react to seeing him…well, like this. After all, birds in pornos seemed to like 'em this size. Not that he'd ever compare his gorgeous, brilliant wife to some magically enhanced, completely hairless bimbo in a magazine, but still…

He'd just begun stroking himself, imagining his wife's tight pussy, always so juicy and slick just for him, and her beautiful tits, the way they bounced when he fucked her, when suddenly—

" _RONALD WEASLEY, DID YOU HEAR ME?_ Why is it that it's always _me_ who's on baby duty whenever we visit anyone? Because I'm the _woman,_ I suppose? As I vividly recall, you contributed—"

Her voice was so loud and astonishingly near that Ron whipped around just as her tirade went skidding to an abrupt halt, the monstrosity that was his cock still grasped firmly in his hand while he guiltily faced his wife, who'd apparently decided to Apparate into the room: Her hair was crackling with angry electricity, her chest was heaving, and she was now staring in evident shock at his dick, her mouth opening and closing comically.

"Ron, w-what…? What in the name of Merlin…?"

"Oh, hey, Hermione!" he said a bit too cheerfully, and he would've laughed at the humor of the situation if he hadn't been waiting for her to either tear his head off—although precisely which head was in more danger, he wasn't entirely certain—or attack him in a passionate frenzy of desire.

Her often baffling contradictions and unpredictability certainly kept their marriage interesting.

"George?" she finally said, her meaning obvious, as she indicated his engorged, vibrating dick with a nod.

"Yep."

"It's…um…it's vibrating." She licked her lips and visibly swallowed.

As if in answer, his dick hummed.

Unexpectedly and a bit madly, that story from the Muggle children's book that he'd once read to Rosie—and which he'd decided afterward was entirely too scary for children—about the wolf pretending to be the young girl's grandmother popped into his head, and Ron had to fight the strongest urge to say, "The better to please you with, my dear." For his own sake, however, and for the sake of his manhood, he just managed to restrain himself.

"Is—Is it supposed to do that? And what about the—the size…?"

Was it his imagination, or did she seem just as excited as she seemed intimidated?

"Er…pretty much all normal, yeah." This was anything _but_ normal. "He's calling it 'the Penis Mightier.' Geddit? Like, 'the pen is mightier…'"

She merely licked her plump lips, seeming to not even hear his nonsensical ramblings as her eyes continued to stay locked on his ludicrously bloated knob—which for some reason he hadn't even bothered to stow away in his trousers. (Not that it would fit in this unnatural state, but still...) He studied her reactions, noting the way her chest inflated and deflated in an exaggerated manner, and how flushed her cheeks were…

His time as an Auror had taught him how to read people, and the way she was looking at him now…or, _it_ , rather…he couldn't help but feel a bit like a piece of meat on display. And he found that he rather liked being looked at like he was about to be devoured. In fact, he could've sworn he felt his subtly vibrating cock increase its speed in direct response to her response: He knew the notion was mental, but it was like it could _sense_ her, and it could sense her reactions to it… Fucking hell, his dick had always had a mind of its own, but this was just plain ridiculous.

On that thought, Ron's eyes fell to her chest, and he could clearly see her nipples through the thin, cotton dress she'd chosen that morning, hardened either because she was cold or else because she was hot for him. Maybe both. Fuck, he wanted to fuck her with the ridiculous thing between his legs. Right here. Right now.

"And, uh, how long until the effects wear off?" Hermione finally breathed, a hitch in her voice that he recognized, after five years of marriage and three years of dating before that, as meaning that she, without a fucking doubt, wanted him.

Hell. Fucking. Yeah.

Since Rosie's birth six months ago, it seemed that every wanker with a wand and a propensity for evil had decided to quit sitting around and twiddling his or her respective thumbs, and therefore Ron had had no choice but to spend entirely too many hours away from his family. And because of Rosie's stubborn refusal to accept that nighttime was for sleeping, Hermione was usually (understandably) too tired for sex when Ron was actually at home.

As a result, their intimate encounters were few and far between these days, and Ron leapt at every opportunity for sex with his wife.

Making an attempt at a casual shrug, as if it were an everyday occurrence that his cock grew to grossly disproportionate size and began to vibrate, he took a predatory step closer to her. "Just until I…y'know, cum, I think."

He could literally see the gears whirring in her head as she seemed to come to some sort of decision. And then, as unceremoniously as if she were putting on the tea kettle, she reached beneath her dress and pushed the flimsy lace of her knickers down her legs, sashaying her hips as she went, before hastily stepping out of them. "Let's get to it, then. Angie's rocking Rosie, but I told her I'd only be a moment."

Ron stared at her for a single heartbeat, feeling floored that his wife was seriously suggesting a quickie in his brother's house—but since the majority of his blood was centered in the nether regions of his anatomy, he was operating almost entirely on instinct: He was therefore on Hermione like the ugly on a Blast-Ended Skrewt, backing her up against the counter aggressively as he snogged her senseless, sucking her tongue and nipping her lips; his hands cupped and kneaded her fan-fucking-tastic arse beneath her dress as he lifted her onto the very edge and stepped between her splayed thighs.

"Oh, God," Hermione breathed, licking her lips again in evident excitement and nerves as she seized his cock between them and consequently found that her small hands couldn't close all the way around his thick, vibrating shaft; she began pumping him furiously at that discovery, fueled by apparent lust and awe, and Ron groaned at the look of utter sexy-as-fuck abandon on her pretty face as much as the feel of her warm, skilled hands working him at a frenzied pace, and ah, fuck, at this rate he was gonna explode in her hands…

"Wait—stop," he grunted, stilling her hands with his own. "That is, unless you want a repeat of our first time." He might not be a teenager anymore, but it had been a while, and that ruddy potion wasn't helping matters much…

She smiled, and Ron knew that she was recalling the day after the final battle when they'd lost their virginities together in his childhood bedroom: Once he was inside her, he had (much to his extreme mortification) lasted all of about two minutes.

Determined to wipe that particular blunder from her mind—never mind that he was the one who'd put it there to begin with—he abruptly grasped his dick and pushed up her dress, staring in a lust-clouded daze at his wife's beautiful pussy with its short, dark curls and juicy slit, and the little pink, swollen bud nestled just above it…

"Oh my God! Ron!" she cried out, her hips jerking and her fingernails scraping his back beneath his shirt when he began stroking the head of his vibrating cock against that little bundle of nerves; her body jolted violently when he started sliding rhythmically into her folds, rubbing over her clit with every plunge; her legs locking around his waist in a vice, she began rocking her hips against him almost desperately, her fingertips now grasping his shoulders like she was on the ride of her life. "Oh—oh…I'm gonna… Oh, God, _Ron_ , yeeesssssss…"

"Yeah, cum for me, baby, that's right, use my cock," he was whispering into her ear, beyond turned on, his straining dick dripping its wetness into her own as they thrust against each other. As her body continued to quake and shudder, Ron, on sudden impulse, pushed the left straps of her dress and bra down her shoulder, exposing her tit, which was beautifully full and heavy with milk, her nipple darker than it had been before he'd gotten her pregnant... "Fuck, you're so hot, Hermione. I'm gonna fuck you so hard now…"

"Yes…take me, Ron. Fuck me. I-I need it." She bit her lip then, raw desire written all over her lovely face that made him so fucking hot for her he could hardly stand it…

He couldn't wait another bloody second to have her. Grasping her arse with one hand, he looked into her eyes as he positioned himself at her center; he couldn't help but wonder, for a moment, if his engorged dick would actually fit inside her. However, as he eased himself gently into her, inch by inch, giving her ample time to adjust to his unfamiliar length and girth, and her tight, slick walls easily encased him, he knew that her body was made for this. It was made for _him_ , even super-sized. (She'd given birth to his child, hadn't she?)

When he was at last fully sheathed inside her, he realized that she was shuddering almost violently against him, his name escaping her lips once more in a breathy pant of sheer lust and desire as her hands dipped down to squeeze his arse possessively.

He grinned cockily, spurred on by her aggressiveness as he moved in and out of her in several experimental strokes, savoring how sweetly, deliciously tight she felt; but then his hips stopped moving and his grin faded in the next moments as their eyes met—and the heat surged between them, a living, breathing, tangible thing.

No more words were needed; they were now communicating solely in a primitive language as old as time itself: that of two lovers as they collided together in a passionate fury, flesh crashing against flesh, spirit mating with spirit until nothing else remained, nothing else mattered but _this_ …

She was pulsing around him as she climaxed once more, squeezing him in a strong, rhythmic vice while his name erupted from her lips in a worshipful litany, and Ron knew that he couldn't hold it in much longer, so he didn't bother trying: Instead, he hiked her right knee up over his shoulder, grasped her hips, angled her backwards to get better leverage, and he then began pounding into her like there was no tomorrow, losing himself in the erotic sight and feel of her…

"Fuck, sweetheart—so hot—gonna make me cum," he grunted, watching her single freed tit bounce in time to his rapid, desperate plunges; several more hard thrusts was all it took, and then his hips locked tightly against hers as the pleasure in his groin reached its pinnacle, his stomach muscles contracting almost painfully—then he was cumming, _hard_ , filling her up to the brim, giving her all he had to give, and oh, sweet fucking Merlin's taint,it was so— sodding— _good_ —possibly the best orgasm of his life…

As his toes eventually began to uncurl after a veritable eternity, and the acute pleasure gradually abated, he found that his entire body was quaking in the aftermath; also, he discovered that his knees were suddenly weak, and he was forced to grasp Hermione's still-splayed thighs in order to keep himself upright as a feeling of lightheadedness washed over him, making him woozy.

"Ron, are you all right?" she whispered, and he felt her fingers brush the sweaty fringe from his forehead, the concern in her voice punctuated by light, tender kisses to his closed eyelids and lips, and only then did he realize that he was no longer inside her, and that his dick felt…quite normal. Not to mention drained and limp.

"Ung…never better," was the only response he could seem to muster as he allowed his forehead to fall to the crook of her neck, and he breathed in the sweet smell of her hair, ignoring the fact that her frizzy curls were tickling his nose.

That was the best sex he could remember them having since…well, possibly that time after the war when Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts without him and he'd been working with George at the shop—and she'd decided to surprise him one day in the middle of the week in the storeroom, sans knickers. Long story short, they'd eventually gone back to Grimmauld Place—he'd been living with Harry at the time—and spent the entire day just fucking each other's brains out, relaxing, and enjoying each other's company. Up until that point, it had been the best bloody day of his life.

Of course, that memory was well overshadowed now by his wedding day, the day he'd found out he was going to be a father, and Rosie's birth—but it was definitely still in his top five.

Now he could probably count this as…well, definitely in his top ten favorite memories, and he reckoned he had George to thank for that, the bastard.

Finally opening his eyes and pulling away slightly, he was met by the almost painfully erotic sight of his wife's bare tit and her dress hiked up around her waist, revealing her juicy sex and his cum still on her inner thighs. Despite feeling spent, Ron immediately began to harden again, and he was rather relieved to see that the gargantuan thing that had been there was now the same ol' dick he was used to—still impressive, but no longer freakishly disproportionate to his body.

"Guess I should be asking if _you're_ all right," he said shakily as he took another step back and tucked himself into his trousers, watching her use her wand to siphon away their combined bodily fluids from her thighs.

"Are you joking?" Hermione responded with a laugh as she tucked her breast back into her dress and hopped down from the counter. "That was…that was amazing, Ron. _You're_ amazing. Thank you."

He chuckled at her response, his arms encircling her small waist as she stepped up to him, warmly caressing his unshaven jaw before standing on the tips of her toes and planting a lingering kiss to his lips. "So…you won't be disappointed going back to…y'know…regular ol' me?" he asked when their lips finally parted. Despite feeling good about her praise, he couldn't help but feel a tad self-conscious as well.

"No harm in switching things up now and again to keep things interesting, but believe me when I say I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world, least of all—"

"A huge, vibrating cock?" he inserted helpfully, delighting in her crimson blush. He found the fact that he could still make her blush after eight years simply by saying "cock" to be absolutely adorable.

"Yes. Well. It _was_ quite…special, admittedly. But I wouldn't want it that way every time."

"Oh, well, that's a shame, 'cause I was planning on taking home a huge batch o'that potion," he said with a low chortle, earning a playful swat from his wife, but before she could offer up a retort, there was a sudden pounding on the door.

"Oi!" George's voice boomed, causing them both to jump. "Ever heard of a Silencing Charm? They come in quite handy for things like…oh, I dunno, singing in the shower, private conversations you don't want overheard, or quickies in your—"

Ron strode forward and jerked the door open.

"—brother's loo," George finished in a decidedly quieter voice. "So," he added, clapping his hands together eagerly, "did the product work like it was supposed to?"

"I think this one will definitely be a top seller," Hermione interjected before Ron could reply, beaming sweetly between the two brothers. "I'd reconsider the name, though, if I were you. 'Penis Mightier' isn't nearly as clever as I'm sure you think it is."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I’d love to hear from you if you did. ;)


End file.
